The ancient song that Amanoiyal wrote
That brought to being all the Ainur’s race
And how with other song the Void He smote
To create Ambar. How He loosed His grace
And gave unto the Ainur gift to sing
About the melody, and gift to write
Its patterns. How one desired to be King
And rule the earth. How he had lusted Light
And seeking Light he only found the Dark
And took it to his rule, and delved the Black
For secrets yet untamed, that turned his heart
From Amanoiyal’s Light to outer Wrack
That bought him ruin. Seeking to be great
He sang apart from Amanoiyal's theme
And mixed his darker shades there: subtle hate
He wrought, and piercing cold, a frozen realm
With spears of ice; and fire hot that burns
In firey pits of heat and flaming swords
That sear; and ev'ry thing that darkly yearns
Towards evil's impulse black; and binding cords
And darkly-glinting light on hell-wrought bands
With thoughts of malice, and the fires of doom
That shine in bloody gloom of withered lands
With torments, agonies that shalt entomb
The bearer and inflicter. Bloody guilt
Unfelt by he who bears it who death brought;
Yea, all that doth life's brightness rend and wilt
Was sung by him, in entry subtly wrought
But in its building rising darker o'er
The lifting song his brethren made. In grief
The Father watched. Their song now trembling bore
The dark one's malice. Lo! He never lief
Despite His patient smile, raised His hand
And strengthening the brethren's wav'ring own
A new song lifted up in sorrow grand
Whereat dark Orgel's pride and his dread throne
Of clashing musics trumpeted more loud.
His music sought to drown their musics dazed
By sudden tumult. Now with great head bowed
Amanoiyal His other hand now raised.
A greater song than all His radiant halls
Had ever echoed to, now slow began
That was most wonderfully sorrowing.
The notes that seemed most great of Orgel's own
It took unto its self and borrowing
Those notes it wrought their fineness better yet.
Whereat dark Orgel’s song increased the fire
Of musics; sought its strength alone, to set
Above Amanoiyal’s, so high desire
Was burning for his pride. But gently He
Without the need of gesture, signalled leap
Or flaming passion, raised His music free
And freer yet, so all His vaults must weep
In echoes of the sound and sorrow’s tears.
Then Amanoiyal smiled no more, but wept
And drowned proud Orgel’s strains of hates and fears.
So even as that dark song died, His leapt
And roused the vaulted halls of Heav'n to tears
And Heaven would have wept. Then slowly He
In single piercing chord that soothes and sears
Ended His lonely mournful melody.
Then Orgel's heart was moved to wrath
And filled with darkness and dark shame.
The Father swept along a path
That gleamed with glinting light. A flame
The Ainur glimpsed far off. Along
The path they followed. At the brink
He halted. "See thy forming song!"
And as they watched, Dark seemed to shrink
The flame to grow. The globéd World
Was laid there, as He willed. Unfurled
It rose before them. "See thy work!
Of thee is formed the Ambar, Earth.
But of my son Orgel comes Dark
From nether regions! But in troth
Behold it spreads a gloom to show
How bright Light is, how beautiful.
Into this Arda, children, go
To guard its ages, ye who will.
I am with you." A speeding flame –
And some descended to Earth fair
And with these Ainur Orgel came
Desiring mastery of there.
But even as were writ the songs
Was written dooming of the Earth.
His darkest hurts and deepest wrongs
Were bent to Light by His great ruth.
This is the account of what Rúmil Tirion’s Elfe-sage hath told me, Ottor Wǽfre named
Ælfwine, and Ereol by the Elfes. Which I have taken from for this account, when I knew
enough Elfe-tongue to translate it. Amanoiyal is He the Elfe-folk also name Ilufatar; and
Amanoiyal meaneth in their tongue 'the eternal and complete goodness'. As for Orgel, it
meaneth in my tongue 'pride', and is given to he Rúmil hath named to me as Melcor; for he
tho' he knoweth my tongue useth not my names or translations of his names.